When the Sun Sets in Barcelona
by MissMarquin
Summary: Otabek wasn't sure when things when from 'You're my best friend' to, 'I'm pretty sure that I can't live without you.' But they had, and as the years wore on it was harder and harder to ignore. Part of the series, 'A Study in Russian'.


_A/N: Here's another part of my series, 'A Study in Russian'. If it wasn't apparent from 'Comfort', these don't have to be read in any specific order, because they aren't in any specific order. If we're counting forward from the end of the series, Otabek is about 26 here, making Yuri 23._

* * *

 _ **When the Sun Sets in Barcelona**_

Otabek wasn't sure when it was that things went from ' _You're my best friend'_ to ' _I'm pretty sure that I can't live without you_ '.

If Yuri knew, he'd laugh at him. Otabek could imagine the rich sound, bubbling up from his throat, amused beyond reason. And then he would punch him across the arm to show that he didn't really care. That he was flattered, but he didn't think about the two of them like that. That was how Yuri dealt with things that made him uncomfortable.

Otabek told himself that it was okay. He could live like this, flying on the coattails of their friendship. Wanting, but always a hair's breadth away. Waiting on the sidelines, but never receiving. He was the quiet and severe type, the type that people didn't think suited to _settling down_. The type that didn't know how to _express_ feelings like this.

Yuri was the same, really, even if their personalities were wildly different. He seemed to be the kind to have a different person in every city, never tying himself down, because _where was the fun in that_?

It scared him, the first time that he had had that thought, the one where he wanted to be _that_ person. How his skin had crawled, as he watched Yuri flirt shamelessly with someone else. And as the years wore on, it got harder and harder to be _just the best friend_. To just stand around and watch.

To Yuri's credit though, there had never been anyone else. Despite the rumors, despite ducking into corners and leaning towards others to flirt, Otabek has never seen him take someone home.

He uses that as a reason to wish. To hope and dream.

"Oi, _Beka_ ," Yuri said from his right, and Otabek turned to him. Yuri had no idea what that nickname dis to him, what it's like to hear it fall so effortlessly from his lips. He also knew that Yuri meant it with honest affection, which made it _worse_ , in a way.

So much worse. He sighed, causing the other to look at him.

"How long has it been since we came here?" Yuri continued. They were in Park Güell, the same spot where Otabek had told him about the _boy with the eyes of a soldier_. Yuri leaned against the railing with an effortless and cool demeanor, and Otabek felt his mouth go dry. Words on the tip of his tongue, waiting to be said.

Instead, he replied with, "Six years."

They had been in Barcelona since that first time, of course, but they had never come back to this spot. With Yuri's success in recent years, and his own effort in leaving a mark, they had been too busy. This time though, they weren't visiting for the sake of competition. This time it was a vacation- one that Yuri insisted that they take together.

"It looks the same," Yuri muttered, though he didn't sound annoyed.

"Why would it change?"

"A lot of things change, Beka."

He paused at that, considering his words. It was rare that Yuri was so insightful, and he often forgot that he wasn't that little Russian firecracker of a _boy_ anymore. He wondered if Yuri realized how much he'd grown in the years that they've known each other.

"Change is good," Otabek finally said. "Staying the same is boring."

Yuri turned around, moving to lean backwards against the railing, his lips quirked into an amused grin. "Coming from literally the most boring person in the entire world."

"I'm not boring," he immediately protested. Tame, maybe even safe. Stoic and unassuming even, but he drew the line at _boring_.

"You certainly aren't adventurous," Yuri cut in. "Everything is always the same with you." He paused. "Not that that's a bad thing," he added, realizing how terrible his words might have sounded. "Change is hard, but having someone who is rock solid and steady, helps with those transitions, you know?"

Otabek did know; he knew all of Yuri's changes. From when he had growth spurts, to when he broke his knee trying a quad flip a few years back. Yuri was the kind of man that freaked out first, and asked questions later. Otabek covered that slack for the both of them.

"One of us has to remain grounded," he said coolly, causing Yuri to throw his head back and laugh. It was near the end of the day, and the sunset glowed in a halo behind him. The pale strands of his hair were so long now, braided down his back like spun gold. Otabek felt twinge again, that little twist in his heart, and he wondered _when the fuck did we get here_.

When had it turned into _I love you_?

Yuri caught him staring, his head cocked to the side in interest.

"Beka-"

"Yura-"

They both stopped, having interrupted each other. Finally, Otabek spoke first. "Yura, I…" But words failed him. He had been about to tell him just how grounded he wasn't. About how he was literally a _mess_ of a person, barely held together around him, because while the distance between them wasn't getting any larger, it _felt_ like it had and-

Those were the words he had been about to say, and he couldn't, because what nearly came out instead would have been _dangerous_.

Yuri seemed to sense the tension between them, because he said, "Aren't we here to enjoy the city?"

Otabek almost laughed at the absurdity of it. Maybe that's why _he_ was there.

But Otabek had come to enjoy _him_ , not the city. For the first time in years, this was the closest they had felt. Despite movie nights and cuddling on couches. Even with the sharing of clothes and Otabek staying over enough nights that he might have as well just _moved in_. _Best friends_ don't fall asleep mid-television program, wrapped around each other in comfort, waking up with cramped necks the next morning.

Yuri had never protested it, toeing that line alongside him.

And then Yuri spoke again, asking, " _Are_ you enjoying it?" The question was quiet and hesitant, and incredibly loaded.

Otabek didn't mean to reach out. It was like he had no control over his fingers. They ghosted along Yuri's jawline before gripping gently. He wasn't pushed away. Instead, Yuri seemed to wait, drawing him in and-

Well, Otabek _certainly_ never meant to lean over and kiss him.

Yuri was taller than him now, so he head to lean up, pulling him down gently. It wasn't much more than a brush of lips together, but it was _enough_. He waited for Yuri to jerk back, to pull away and freak out, like he always did with things that surprised him.

But he didn't.

Fingers clamped to the front of Otabek's leather jacket and pulled him closer. Yuri's other hand brushed against Otabek's jaw as he pressed closer, falling into the kiss with eagerness. Lips parted and moved against each other, and it was perfect. More perfect than he could have ever wanted, perfect enough that Otabek forgot that _best friends definitely don't do things like this_.

They broke apart to breathe, to ground themselves. " _Beka_ ," Yuri whispered, his breath warm between them, " _It's about damn time_."

Something inside Otabek short-circuited, and he pulled away. "Yura, what-"

But Yuri was breathless, gripping onto him like he was afraid that he would disappear if he let go. Like he wasn't sure this was actually happening. "Do you know how long I've waited? How long I've _wanted_ this?"

He was in hell. This was hell, and it was a cruel, twisting thing, because if Yuri had been _waiting all this time then_ -

"Why," Otabek finally managed, "Why didn't you say anything?"

The look that fell across Yuri's face knocked the wind from his chest, and suddenly he couldn't breathe."I didn't want to ruin it," he murmured. "I wasn't sure if you… I didn't know that you-" He paused to sigh in slight frustration. "You are the _most_ important thing to me, and the idea of _ruining_ it was worse than anything else."

Yuri had felt the same, it had been _the fucking same for him_ , this entire time. Both of them, dancing around each other at a distance, pining for something that could have actually been. They had been too stubborn, too driven to hold the other on a leash so tight, that they had forgotten how to live and _feel_.

"I'm not sure what frustrates me more," Otabek finally said, "The fact that we could have had this all along, or that I'm not sure when _this_ became a thing."

Yuri chuckled, leaning in, pressing his forehead against his. His skin was warm, too warm and soft and-

And Otabek _really_ wanted to kiss him again.

Yuri beat him to it, dragging his face up to meet his once more, hands moving to cradle his jaw. This one was better, less sweet and more daring, and Otabek's hands found Yuri's waist, his fingers running across the small slip of skin there where his shirt had raised.

They pulled apart again, but Otabek kept his grip firm. "Yura, this wasn't just a vacation, was it?"

"Either way, I was getting a damn kiss," Yura replied.

"If I'm supposed to be the grounded one, I'm not doing a very good job at it."

"Stupid," Yuri said. "What's more grounding than a confession?"

Otabek smirked. "Is that what this is? A confession?"

"How many times have I told you that I loved you?" Yuri's voice was quiet, like he was revealing a secret. "Every time that we've watched a movie, every time that I've cooked dinner. When we rub those aches and pains from our sore muscles after practice. Beka, I've always told you. You're too stubborn to listen."

Who was this, that stood before him? Yuri wasn't the sentimental kind. He wasn't one for vast proclamations as wide as the sea. He must have been waiting forever, perhaps even longer than himself.

"We're both stupid, then," Otabek finally said. "So stupid, and so stubborn."

"I've said it," Yuri replied, a hint of a smile on his lips. "I've said that _I love you_ , but you haven't."

And that wall that he had steadily built up around his heart, tumbled to the ground. " _Yura_ ," he breathed, reaching up to brush his cold fingers against Yuri's cheek. "Of course I love you."

"So kiss me again, you old man," Yuri teased, as he leaned down.

So Otabek did. And did, and did, and did, one hand gripping onto Yuri's hip like it was a lifeline. The other reached up to tangle in his hair, pulling apart his braid.

And they didn't stop until the sun was set.


End file.
